I know those eyes
by stilljustme
Summary: The past should be the past, and the grave Mick dug for his was as wide and deep as the ocean between Wales and Washington. Still, when ghosts from the past cast their shadows over the team, can Gina be true to her feelings for the man he tries to be now? And can Prophet finally find a girlfriend, too, before all hell breaks loose?
1. Prolouge

_This story has been haunting me since I guess one year…and I wanted it to be my masterpiece, so I told myself to wait with writing it till I would really have time. Well, I still don't have it, and my English is far too bad for what I want to say (or at least how), and the longer I carry the idea of this story with me, the weaker the plot gets in my mind, so I've decided that maybe the best time is now._

_- starting in the night before "One Shot Kill" -_

_I know those eyes, following me;_

_Dark and familiar, and deep as the sea-_

_I know that face, strange though it seems,_

_Younger and kinder it haunts all my dreams._

_How can you stand there, a whisper from me_

_When you are just so far away?_

I know those eyes; The Count of Monte Christo

"Hey! 'Nother one." Without even looking at the man behind the bar, he ordered his fifth whiskey. American stuff. Not hard enough. He let his fingertips circle round the edge of the empty glass before him, apparently lost in thoughts. Actually his eyes were fixed on the blurred reflexion on the glass – the small figure deep in the bar's corner. The one that had followed him since three hours, at least three hours. As much as Mick hated to admit it – the other one was good. Maybe he wouldn't have noticed him at all if it wasn't for his eyes. Something in the green eyes struck familiar, but right now he couldn't say what it was. Nothing too obvious, of course. And nothing that would prevent him of killing that guy, should it come down to that. But not now. Now he just waited, and watched the other as the other watched him.

"Sir!" Roughly, the empty glass was wound out of Mick's hands as a new one was put before him. The Welsh's eyes blazed as he now focused them on the fat barman. "That's a smaller one." His voice, calm as he held it, was threatening. He hated the power American barmen thought to have – the power they had, actually, since nobody ever dared to say anything against them. Slowly, without ever looking away, he pulled his empty glass out of the barman's grip and poured the content of the smaller one into it. Then he held it up, between their faces. "See? There's something missing. And I paid for it." His glaze was still steady enough to have scared every murderer away. But not the barkeeper. Working in a shady, dirty back road in the shadiest, dirtiest part of Washington, he was used to worse guys. Plus the black FBI-agent with the cross in his pocket had told him to keep an eye on the younger man.

"You drink more I gotta call you a cab", he said firmly, his eyes glowing with triumph. Whatcha doin now, Welshman?

Mick saw the message in the barkeeper's eyes, and every other night he would have taken the challenge and pulled the man over the counter. But not this night. Maybe he'd need his strength later on. On his persecutor maybe, or on the brunette at his right side. She too had been staring at him for a time, but there was no familiarity – and no threat – in her eyes. Mick pulled on a wry smile. "Thanks for your concern", he said sarcastically, "but I'll rather walk home. Now do I get another one? Big one?" He could almost see the barkeeper's brain working for a witty answer, but it didn't come. Grudgingly the older poured him some more alcohol.

Still smiling, Mick took the glass and turned to the woman beside him. "So, pretty girl", he smiled, "what brings someone like you somewhere like here?" The woman – she couldn't be older than twenty – obviously had drunk more than was good for her. "Waiting to be asked out by jerks", she said, her voice not as even as she probably wished. Mick laughed. "Then it's your luck you found me, ain't it? Hey, mate! You get my girl here something to drink?" If looks could kill, the barkeeper would've been trialed for murdering a federal agent. As they didn't, it was all he could do to drive his elbow in Mick's ribs as he moved past him, causing him to cough over his whiskey. As he lifted his head again he shot a quick glance over to the corner.

The other wasn't there anymore.

Elise stretched pleasurably, her long legs dangling under the blanket and meeting, almost as if by chance, Mick's foot. "You really gotta go right now?" The Welsh smiled, his usual ever-so-slightly-ironical smirk, but his voice was soft as he said, "sorry, baby, gotta save the world!" Elise moaned, half with pleasure from the last hours, half with disappointment. "I guess I won't see you again…?" Mick didn't answer as he dressed up. It had been nice with the girl, and the sex actually had been great – she wasn't shy at all. But inside his head, the alarm bell had kept on ringing all the time. Someone was chasing him, and he had no idea who it was or why he did it. He didn't even know what the other's goal was. Mick's death? He played with his victim, then. His money? That would have been even easier to take. Any information Mick had that nobody else had? He had thought about it while riding Elise, but he hadn't found the answer yet. All he knew was that he had lost the first round. He had to turn the tables now. "Hey, Mick!" Finally, Elise had got up. Wrapped in the dark blue blanket, her skin shone in the moonlight. For the first time this night, Mick looked at her. "You're beautiful, honey", he said, meaning it this time, "trust me, you don't want to see me again." She caught his glance, and the bitterness in his eyes sent shivers down her spine. Maybe she really didn't want to see him again – yet on the other hand she knew that she did, did want to see this broken, sexy, secretive and dangerous man again. While lost in thoughts, Elise hadn't noticed Mick coming near her. It was only as he kissed her that she reacted, pulling him close, breathing in the perfume of her very first night in Washington. Mick's lips tasted like Whiskey, and hunger, adventure, death, love, passion…oh yes, Washington was so much more vivid than home!

After a too short moment Mick pulled away, turned around and left without a word. Elise stood there for a long time, her body bathed in moonlight, her mind following the Welsh.

He was there again. This time, Mick knew it instantly. The night sounded differently now that not all footsteps were made by drunken people. At least two pairs of feet moved swiftly, directly, without having to think about where was left and right. He was there, right behind Mick but not close enough to simply turn around and grab him. Mick steadied his breath, his heart pounding slower and slower with every second. He was good at this. Whoever that guy was – and whatever he had done with his eyes – this was Mick's area of expertise. Three blocks away from his apartment, however, he still hadn't shaken his persecutor. Fastening his pace, Mick moved around a dark corner. Nobody was there. Mick grinned. He could wait, twenty hours and more if he had to. The other might be good, but he was better. And he was going to prove it.

Two hours later, Mick gave up. The other one hadn't tried to do anything. He seemed content just to be behind him, following his every step. Mick cursed under his breath. The picture of him sitting home waiting for whoever might made him more than uncomfortable.

He woke up twice this night, hoarsely screaming long forgotten names. Nightmares. He had so hoped he'd be over them, but here they were, bloody and hot and cruel. Dark shadows pulled him back, through the time to stations of his life he had had long forgotten – and had forgotten, he realized. It was only a dizzy memory, and he hated it. All he knew was that he hated it. And he feared it. Bathed in sweat, Mick made his way to the fridge. "Someone's gonna buy me new beer", he murmured quietly.

Elise stood still as the crosshair found her chest. She still stood next to the door, thinking about Mick Rawson, his passion, his laughter, the earnest in his eyes, the pleasure she had felt. Life was good. Maybe – hopefully - even for Rawson. Maybe there was a chance for her. There was always a chance…

The shot fell – and Elise fell also and never raised up again.

Morning sun found Mick Rawson at the kitchen table, glasses and bottles down on the earth. It had been one of those nights. Mick closed his eyes as the alarm clock rang. Now he probably would have found sleep. Cautiously, Mick looked through the window. Nobody was there.

_Will the ghost go away?_

_Will she will them to stay?_

_Either way there's no way to win._

_All I know is I'm lost,_

_And I'm counting the cost,_

_My emotions are in a spin._

It's a dangerous game, Jekyll & Hyde


	2. Rough Nights, Sexy Mornings

_Thanks to you all for the encouragement! Hope you'll like this chapter too… Sorry for not writing so long, I'll try to update once a week now…_

_PS: I watched the CBS-clip for "One Shot Kill" about a hundred times, and I still don't understand the first two sentences Mick says (which is why they're missing/replaced here^^) – can anyone please tell me what he's mumbling before "He always knows when I had a rough night?" Thanks!_

_PPS: Just realized that in my version, Prophet comes on second and not last… _

_PPS: Sorry for the long introduction, just – I try to write from Mick's perspective (but not first person) whenever he's on stage, but I can't write that way when quoting whole scenes from the series, which will happen in this and in the next chapter. I'll hope to get that right as the story continues._

_How 'bout, baby, we'll make a promise –_

_Not promise anything more than one night?_

_Complicated situations_

_Only get worse in the morning light._

Looking for a good time; Lady Antebellum

Nobody was there.

Beth allowed herself a grin. Perhaps she had made it once. It was only seven a.m. and her apartment was near the headquarter – maybe, just maybe she had made it in time before anybody else was… the wooden song of sticks ended Beth's hope.

Sam was already there. _Of course._ There and doing Kali – which meant he had been there for a time, for seriously as Cooper was with this sport, he most likely had spent half an hour preparing and stretching before it.

As Beth sat down on a bench at the gym's wall, her smile had reappeared. She wasn't really surprised at her boss's being there first. That was just him. It was his amazing, caring, shapely self…_shapely_? The agent buried her face in her hands and took a deep breath. She was doing it again. Swooning like a teenager.

"Hey, Beth, you're okay?" She jerked at Sam's voice – and at the feeling of his warm hand on her shoulder. "Yes…uhmm…no, no, I meant…yes…yes. Morning, Sam!" _Like a teenager_. It took all of her long experienced professionalism to keep her eyes on Sam's face and not moving them down to his naked, sweat-soaked torso. "I was just…hoping to be here first in vain. Again." Which was even true. Sam smiled. "I'm sorry. If you…" "No, it's okay, just go on. We should wait for the others before talking about the case anyway, don't mind me. We've got time. Mick's probably still asleep, so…" With an indulgent smile, Sam moved back and started a new round. Beth sighed. She should know by now that making fun of Mick Rawson was not the best way to distract Cooper. And rambling didn't help either. Beth closed her eyes. _Blame it all on Gina_.

She had grown fond of her new team, had really started to like them. Trust them, though this was a real new feeling for her. And she shouldn't have done it. Beth bit her lips as if that could stop the sarcastic voice inside her head. _You trust her_, said the voice, _and you got drunk with her. Don't blame Sam, blame Gina. Blame your stupid, swooning, heartbroken, hit-by-Amor's-arrows, dunk self!_ Why had she told Gina about her feelings for her boss? Her real feelings? Since when had four drinks been too much for her to keep her heart closed up to people she worked with?

"Morning, Beth! Is that…who's the poor guy Coop's beating?" The Prophet arrived in the gym, a bag in his hands. He seemed even more tired than when she had last seen him – four days ago. He had been gone without warning, but since Cooper hadn't said anything about it Beth had assumed he just had taken a few days off. It seemed like every guy in this unit needed his private time once in a while. And they said girls were too emotional! Beth eyed her colleague curiously, only to notice that he didn't seem as well trained as her boss. "So, you're back from your holidays?"

The Prophet managed a grin. "It wasn't what I'd call a holiday, Beth. Not at least." He sighed.

Beth hesitated for a second. It was unlike her to ask private questions. Still… "What happened?" The other shot her an irritated glance. It _was_ unlike her to ask private questions. "Sorry, you don't have to answer this. I just thought that since you've gone away in the night and come back in the daylight, you have a story you wanna tell."

"Story telling?" Gina's voice rang from behind as she joined the agents, dressed and smiling as if it was Sunday afternoon and not Thursday morning way too early. Her smile, however, weakened a little as she recognized one member still missing. "Where's Mick?" The Prophet shrugged. "Seven a.m.", he said, as if that would explain everything. The women smiled, and then Gina looked over to Coop. "He's good!" "Yeah, he is." Gina's smile brightened up again as her eyes followed Beth's glance. Beth, noticing her being observed, bit her lips to not start smiling, too. Maybe it was this simple. Maybe she just hadn't wanted to close up her feelings anymore. It sure was time for her to make friends, real friends, and even though Gina could almost have been her daughter, she had become her friend, too. And that felt good.

Though, Beth couldn't help thinking as the smile faded from Gina's face, friendship also brought problems. The big problem with Gina was her lack of self-confidence and, worse, self-esteem. _Fathers_. They always were a chapter for themselves. Since hearing of General LaSalle, though, Beth was glad of her own. Absent as he had been, and disappointed by the job she had chosen, he never had given her the feeling of being unworthy.

"I wonder what we're on, once we finally start", the Prophet's patience with Mick was obviously exhausted. Murmuring something about youth and taking life too easy he went off to the small kitchen. For making coffee, Beth hoped.

Gina stared after him in surprise, but Beth only shrugged. He was right with what he wasn't saying. They were called at seven a.m. because they were needed _at once_.

Second problem with Gina: She was in love with Mick. At this very special night in the bar, Beth hadn't been the only one to talk about love. Gina had fallen for her welsh colleague almost from the first moment on, though she tried to hide it, though she knew that her chances were beneath counting. Which wasn't Gina's fault, of course, but Mick's. Beth had grown fond of the former sniper, too, he had a certain dark charm about him, and by now she knew that the team mattered to him – but he wasn't one for an earnest relationship. The war must have broken down something in him so he couldn't trust people on a certain level anymore, or he simply didn't want it, but – whenever Beth saw Gina smiling at Mick, she saw adoration and the will to heal him. Whenever she saw Mick smiling at Gina she saw a big brother encouraging his little sister.

"Oh crap!" _Talking of the devil…_

"Good morning to you, too." Beth took a step back for Mick to get next to Gina. He, of course, didn't get it but stared horrified at Cooper, full in his fourth round. "Should've known he calls us in extra early just to see him shine", he murmured, a wry smile on his face, "he always knows when I had a rough night." "Really?" Gina's smile was wry too, but in a very different way. "What was her name?" "Her name was Lisa", still Mick's eyes were fixed on his best friend. "No, it was…uhm… Elise." He turned half, smiling, but Gina only looked at Beth now. "That's charming! He never grows up!" Beth nodded approvingly. Gina had won the first round of the morning banter.

"Growing up is overrated, right?" Mick countered absently.

He still felt the stalker's eyes on him, observing every breath, doubling every step but not coming near enough for Mick to do anything. Even now Mick wasn't sure if going home had been a good idea. Now the other knew where he lived.

"Mick!", Coop said, beaming. "Go for a round?"

"Wha…" Mick came back to reality in shock. He forced another smile for his best friend.

This was his problem. What else should he've done than going home? Staying with Elise was out of question, and the next thing he had to home was Cooper's apartment, and he'd never let anything dangerous come close to Sam Cooper. Never.

Mick nodded in silent agreement with himself for the first time in the last ten hours. By now he hadn't been killed, there hadn't even been a threat to kill him, really. No reason to alarm anybody.

Then he realized he had just nodded. "You know I just…uh…" Sam laughed. "Rough night, ey?" Mick nodded again, memories welling up again. The eyes. Something was wrong with those eyes.

Sam noticed the change of mood in his friend's face. "You're good?"

Mick winced. "Yeah, I just…" The Prophet reappeared, seeming more at ease now. But he only held one cup f coffee in his hands. Beth rolled her eyes. _Men_!

"Hey, man, how's it going? Got a lot of fun wherever you were?" His exaggerated smile quickly wiped off as the other agent sighed. "Rough night too, uh? Look, Coop, we're all here, why don't we just get to work?"

Gina sighed, but didn't say a word as Mick turned around to face her. She just shook her head and went up the stairs to their bureau. Beth shot the brit a long glance. She was used to Mick not reacting at her efforts of helping Gina getting near to him, but this time…he seemed not only to not have cared for her words. He seemed as if he just hadn't heard them.

"_Why don't you just kiss and get it over with?"_

Beth looked at Sam. They were the only ones in the gym now. Again.

"You really think he's okay?"

Coop didn't need to ask whom she was speaking of – though, Beth later realized, she could have asked the same for the Prophet, too.

"No", the team leader said, worry in his eyes. "Something's definitely not okay. But he won't tell it. And we can't afford to lose him in this case by urging him."

"Great. So what we're doing now?"  
"Work." Sam nodded for her to go. "I need all of you concentrated. Mick the most."

Great", Beth said again, irony dripping from the word, "what do we got? A killing womanizer?"

Sam stayed earnest.

"A sniper."

_I walk a lonely road,_

_The only one that I have ever known._

_Don't know where it goes, and it's only me –_

_I walk alone._

Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Green Day


	3. The White Feather

_So much for once a week…sorry. Thanks for the reviews in any case__! This chapter should have been a short summary of "One Shot Kill" (cause that was the episode that started this story in my mind) but as I wrote, it turned out…well, different. It's set on the case anyway, right after Mick got the pager, but it doesn't follow exactly the episode-plot. I hope it doesn't get too complicated._

_I will not bow, I will not break,I will shut the world away!_

_I will not fall, I will not fade, I will take your breath away…_

_And I'll survive, paranoid,_

_I have lost my will to change._

_I will not bow; Breaking Benjamin_

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "Carlos Hatchcock." The name sounded strange now that he read it on an envelope, yet Mick had said it hundreds of times before. The White Feather - a legend not only in the United States. Ninety-three confirmed killings, approximately twenty unconfirmed more.

"Bastard!" That word seemed more familiar now. Furiously, Mick dropped the envelope, dropped the pager that read "bang" and stormed off, ignoring Prophet's call to stop. His hands shook with anger, something that hadn't happened in a long time. Mick was used to control himself, his face, his movements, even his thoughts. Normally. He forced himself to stop, but couldn't stop his hands from shaking. Either the case or his stalker back in Washington was just getting the better of him – or both of it, or everything, or was it the bloody letter the naturalization's office had sent him. For a moment the Welsh's mind drifted back to a case six months ago, cooperating with Virginia's BAU-team, _the_ team par excellence. A man abducting fathers with their daughters, making the men fight to death with other poor guys he caught away from the street. Emily Prentiss – her flirting smile and her language, still sounding European after all that time in the USA. It had been good to hear it. Actually it had been good to be with her, for reasons Mick didn't really want to figure out.

Still, the world had been easier then. "Passports didn't matter", he had told Emily, and she had believed it. He had believed it. And now there the papers were, inquiries and accusations, questioning his loyalty not only to the US, but also – and that was what really got him mad - his loyalty to the FBI. To Coop.

And now this damn killer was obviously questioning his ability. And he misused one of the few American names Mick still held high. Bloody damn show-off!

When he had joined the SAS, every sniper's trainee had had a picture of Hathcock in his closet, and he hadn't been an exception. Hathcock's death at the age of only fifty-seven had devastated the academy.

_Mick remembered it as if it was yesterday – better actually, since he hadn't drunk so much then. They were out in the fields, hiding all over the area, thirty soldiers trying to find and shoot their colleagues – with paintball munitions, for that time, which had led most of the young people to mischief. Colonel Ryder had twenty-one of them sent home for misbehavior, which was a sign of bad temper even for him. The remaining nine trainees cowered down in the muddy grass, shivering in the cold February wind. Mick had only managed to get away from Matt's view, still enjoying the hunt, when suddenly he heard a real bullet banging through the air. And another. And another. When the rifle fired for the twelfth time, Matt stormed out of the woods, his eyes wide in bewilderment. "Rawson!", he called out, obviously not scanning the are anymore, "come on, guys, hunt's over, we won!"_

_Mick had to laugh about that. "You think it's that easy? We're too much out there. And it's way too early. If he calls out now it's just to remind us of getting the job done quicker. Means you got three seconds before I shoot you, mate." He crawled out of his hiding and pulled up his rifle, but Matt didn't move. His eyes were still fixed on the horizon. Fourteen bullets. Fifteen. Mick stood up to follow his friend's glance, but he couldn't see anything either. _

_Then suddenly there was another rifle firing with Ryder's, one of their colleague's, from the sound of it. Mick and Matt looked at each other. "You think we should check it out or is it a trap?" _

"_Well, they wouldn't use such a bloody mass of bullets just to set up a trap, wouldn't they?" Out of nowhere, Ben appeared, smiling at the other's baffled gazes. "Lucky you he's firing, guys, I'd have got you straight down right now!" "Bet you would", Mick murmured, patting him on the back so hard that he stumbled. Ben just laughed louder – he would have won and he knew it, and Mick knew it, too. There was a fight between the two of them, had been since the very first time Mick had set foot into the academy. Ben was two years his senior and almost one head higher, and he was in Ryder's class for the second year now, so Mick knew he shouldn't bother, but still – sometimes the other drove him mad. _

_As the three entered a small patch of wood on a hilltop, they heard another rifle firing out, and some more of their own bullets. They reacted like the soldiers they were trained to be and started running, even Mick forgetting his anger about Ben. Forty-one shots by now – from each of the guns. There was already more munitions shot into the air (for they would have noticed it if it was a real attack) than they were normally allowed to waste in one week. The wind blew harder as they reached the end of the trees. Wide meadows extended before them, and on one of the grassy hills in front of them they saw Ryder, enclosed by five of the other trainees. Matt stopped to catch his breath. "Five", he hissed, "someone's missing." Mick felt his heart stopping for a moment as the words dropped into his brain. He looked at the others and saw the same terror in their eyes. "No." But who knew? Maybe it had happened. Maybe one of them had been hit by too many paint-filled bullets and had died. Maybe one of them had just killed his fist man – a brother in arms. Mick tasted bile in his throat. Was it like that? Was that what he wanted to do?_

"_Hey, look!" Ben pointed out something at their left, and in unison they young men sighed. There was number six, running towards them. Mick had never been happier to have Ben with him. "Whoa!"; Matt cried out, tears of relieve rolling down his face. Mick never got it why Matt had joined the academy. He was good, no doubt of that, but Mick wasn't sure if he would get over his first kill – which was bad for a soldier who tried to be as Carlos Hathcock was. "Thank God! Oh heavens, thank God!" Matt was still laughing, causing Ben to shake his head in disbelief. "How comes you're still in here, Austen? Cissy!" "What, me?" Mick smiled as he recognized the runner. "Hey, what's up out there, Leah? Fifty-eight and going on?" He held a hand out for the girl to climb up the hill, but as usual she didn't take it. Her face was a mask. "Going on till ninety-three", she said flatly, taking them all in, waiting for the coin to drop. Mick felt his throat going all bile and dusty again. It was a different feeling than when he had thought he had killed one of his colleagues, but it didn't feel good either. Matt just stared at the sniper girl, unable to stop the tears now that they already had begun to fall. Even Ben seemed devastated. "You wanna say the White Feather…" "Soared high up to where we cannot see him any more", Leah completed the sentence, letting irony take over her voice. Mick smiled bitterly at her reaction. He knew Leah good enough to know how desperately she was trying to hide her own shock, and Ben did too, probably. It had been for her that the two of them had started fighting in the first place. Now of course, Mick realized how stupid all of it had been. Reality set in, and as always in Mick's life it came with hard blows. Carlos Hathcock. No, he hadn't seen that one coming. "So…" Matt seemed to have found his tongue again. Leah nodded. "Ryder's shooting salute, we're to help him. I was sent to wake you guys up from sleeping, the others are there already. Black ribbons everyone, for three days." Her eyes found Mick's again, and there was something in them he didn't like at all. Some kind of insanity. Ben straightened up. "How?", he asked. Leah shrugged. "Peace", she suggested bitter, "as far as I know he was diagnosed Multiple Sclerosis some years ago. Come on." She ran down the hill, the men quickly following her. Mick didn't cry, he hadn't cried since his parents had got killed, but he felt oddly helpless as they reached the colonel. Why survive the battle when living peacefully could get you killed, too? And even more painful than by just getting shot?_

It was that thought that jerked Mick back into reality. Three years after Hathcock's death, both Ryder and Matt had died in Fallujah. Mick too would have died if it wasn't for Coop. 

"Hey, man, I know that's hard on you, but you need to talk to me! Hey!" Mick stopped and faced the Prophet. He still tasted bile on his throat, but now was not the time. "Carlos Hathcock", he said calmly, "the White Feather, ever heard of him?" Prophet shook his head. "Who was he, Mick? What's he got to do with you? Or with Chicago?" Mick smiled as bitterly as Leah had then. "Nothing. He was the greatest sniper on earth since records began, but…" He took the pager the Prophet had picked up and turned it in his hands. "Whoever did this isn't an official sniper", he said with a sincerity that obviously stunned the Prophet. "No real sniper would claim to be Carlos Hathcock", he explained as the two men went back to the others, "that man's a legend. A hero. He came on at the war of Vietnam. Ninety-three confirmed kills. That's an awful lot." "I thought so"; Prophet murmured, then shook his head. Mick looked at him questioningly, but the other one didn't react. Mick smiled again, more honest now. "Come on, if I got to talk, to got to, too!" Prophet shrugged. "Not as if you told me anything I couldn't google", he said, but continued nevertheless, "I just wonder how I got to sit my five years for killing that son of a bitch and your Carlos Hathcock goes out with ninety-three corpses and a medal." "Well, I suppose that's war", Mick shot back, then quickly switched the topic. "Do we know anything about this thing? Except that it works?" "Not now, and there are no fingerprints on the envelope either", Gina said, walking towards them. "If you haven't found anything, let's bring it down to the laboratories, too. Coop's got police teams sent out to the streets and to every place Beth's geo-profile points out, but nothing yet." She bit her lips as if to hold back the question. Mick looked at her, then shook his head. "I'm great, love", he said lightly, and Gina frowned. "I was just wondering, because it doesn't look too healthy to run away after reading an envelope!" She turned on her heels and rushed off. Prophet chuckled. "Good point." "Yeah, who's not growing up now?" Mick shot back acidly – half a minute too late for Gina to hear it, but didn't they always say it was the effort that counted?

Why survive the battle when living peacefully could get you killed, too?

As Mick and Prophet met the rest of the team, Mick did his best not to meet Cooper's eyes.

Then, two things happened at the same time: One of the police officers Cooper had sent away to check out Beth's profiled area called to confirm another attack – another victim. Coop looked at the pager. "It's _bang_, isn't it? One bang?"

Mick stared at the pager. "Not anymore"; he said hoarsely, now searching his friend's gaze, terror burning in his eyes. "Now it's two bangs."

Two victims.

_You'll never know the days, the nights, _

_The tears, the tears I've cried _

_But now my time has come _

_And time, time is not on your side._

Goldeneye, Tina Turner


	4. This Is War

_Yeah…still kind of "One Shot Kill", but even more changed (and shortened a lot). Have fun and please review, and thanks to all who do! _

_Are you frightened? Cause I'm frightened._

_Earth's shambles and we're just making it worse._

_Short of breath, short of time._

Turn the tide, AiluCrash

Two bangs. Two victims – two more victims – just to boast? And another family devastated. Mick did his best not to stare at the woman and her daughters at the far end of the barrier, but he couldn't avoid hearing her small, short cries, as if she was a bird. A bird that had lost its wings, killed by someone who claimed to be a feather – The feather. Mick didn't usually get sick with corpses lying around (except when the putrid smell of death hung over them too thickly), but standing here in the middle of the crime area, surrounded by sirens and sobs almost made him throw up. His legs felt like jelly, yet his feet were heavy as if made out of stone.

_Bang Bang. I'm a presumptuous idiot and I make a fool out of you. _Such a simple stupid plan but it worked. Mick Rawson stood helplessly beside himself, looking at skills so similar to his own that he couldn't see the meaning. This wasn't war. Snipers and long-rifle-guns belonged to war, not to civilians. It had a reason they all swore an oath to protect their country, for heaven's sake! But this guy…

"Mick! You're okay?" Coop had followed him. Of course. Mick forced on a smile, harsh as the sands in Fallujah had been. "Yeah, I'm good." He turned around to face his best friend. Cooper held the glance, and though Mick knew the game he lost it again, looking away after just a few seconds. "Someone's killing people under a name that's too big for him, for anybody, and these people die for nothing except for sending me a message I don't get. Because I don't get it, Coop, I don't. This damn pager"; he grabbed the little object so firmly as if to crush it, "it's just helping him, he's got our attention, he's got his victims, he's got everything, and we got nothing!" It was only as the little girls started to cry, too, that Mick realized he had shouted the last words. Coop remained calm. "We have something, Mick. And we're working on having more. We can and will get this guy, but I need you present. He wants you to lose your mind. Don't give him what he wants." "Fine. So I just stay calm and let him keep on killing innocent people." Mick closed his eyes. He was tired, he was angry and though he would rather be the next victim than admit it, he was afraid. "He's winning, Coop. He's winning, we're losing. We're losing because of me."

"No, we're not. Mick, this isn't your fault. He's just picked you because…" "Because I'm the fucking weakest link in the chain, yeah thank you very much!" He hadn't even noticed the others coming down. Gina backed away at his tone, and Mick immediately hated himself for it. Great. There was nothing he could do right anymore, the other one – who ever that man might be – played him like a piano, up and down and down again.

"Mick's right"; Beth stated, and the others stared at her in shock. "I mean that there has to be a reason to choose him", she quickly added. "And I take it he must have been trained well and someway officially, for if he just had learnt it by himself, he wouldn't have known about Hathcock." Mick bit his tongue. He was thankful for Beth keeping up the thinking, but sometimes she didn't quite get it. "We found nobody trained in any army or shooting academies, remember?" "Then he learnt it from somebody who was trained, and well trained", Prophet suggested. Gina nodded.

"Good thought, Prophet", Coop said, the hint of a smile on his lips, "let's take that way. Our UnSub has learnt shooting from someone older. Why did he start killing now?" "Because… his teacher has left him? Or died?" Beth offered, and the smile got wider. "That sounds good. So our UnSub wants to worship his teacher by killing. The personality of the victims doesn't matter, they're just numbers. And…"

"Come on guys, we've been through this the whole day long, and we still have no idea, okay, so let's face it: Our sniper kills to boast, and he will keep on killing until he's stopped. By me. Because this is about me, and I'm gonna stop him or he's gonna kill me. No, wait!" Mick put a hand on Coop's shoulder to keep him from protesting, "You said you need me here and now. I am. And I hate being played upon. This guy? I think I know him. At least he knows me. He's been stalking me for three days now, down in Washington, and yesterday after midnight he was gone." Gina gasped. "Three days? When did you think to tell us about him?" The Prophet seemed angry, but Mick was entirely focused on Coop again. He could do it. He would chase the bastard through the city, and then…maybe he wasn't good at peacekeeping – obviously not – but he was good at war. This was a sniper's hunt, just like in the old days. No teamwork, no profiling. War.

Cooper shook his head. "We're not at Fallujah anymore, Mick", he said firmly. "You're not going to do this on your own."

_He betrayed him!_ Mick felt all energy dry up as he stared at the team leader. Coop knew him better than anyone else in the world, except perhaps for Jenna. "More people will die", he said hoarsely, "you know they will." "I don't." "He's a sniper, Coop! And he just found the joy in killing!"

Mick remembered the flush of euphoria that had him after the first hour in Afghanistan. There was a moment before you realize that war is a terrible beast, a moment when your first attackers are dead and you're still standing. A moment of immortality. With Mick it had lasted for three hours, then a house had collapsed above him. He had been caged in for hours, blinded and almost choked – till Cooper had heard his cry for help.

"I don't want more innocent blood on my hands." A hollow phrase. Mick had never felt the truth behind it – now he did.

"And I don't want to have yours on mine, Mick." Coop's voice was thick with understanding and affection. "We will find him before he can kill again. I promise. Let's go in", he nodded towards their current headquarter, "we've got a lot of work to do." He didn't let go of the younger one till they reached the building. "After you, Mick."

Mick smiled bitter as he followed his colleagues. Between the dead bodies, another picture had made its way back into his brain: Matt Austen, gone to Afghanistan as one of the nicest and most harmless people Mick had ever known. Everyone changed in war, and for most of them these changes were irrevocable. He had changed for good in these years. Matt had changed for good, too, and it hadn't only been not for the better, it had been for the worst case Mick had ever seen. After having killed his first twenty soldiers, Matt had become addicted to killing. In the end, he had forgotten every rule, every tactics they had ever learnt.

Mick fell back two steps as Coop caught up with Beth. In the end, Matt had become a danger for the whole unit in his recklessness. One day, Ryder had given the order Mick had feared the most, and he had obeyed.

He had killed Matt.

Slowly, Mick walked backwards to the room where he had left his gun, then he took the fire escape down and followed the path of the killer. He had learnt to memorize city plans, and the lines Beth's geo-profile had painted fit to the last crime scene. There was a center to this circle, and he would find it.

Twenty minutes following mental routes through Chicago, he found it: a memory hall, small but perfect for a sniper, with large glass fronts. At the entrance, Mick saw a poster: There was a man to be honored today, a dead marine soldier… a sniper.

The Welsh sighed in relief. End of game. There would be no more innocent blood on his hands. It was only him and the UnSub now. Two snipers, locked eye to eye. The way it was meant to be. His stalker. Finally Mick would get rid of him – he had to, not only for his own sake now but for his team's. He shouldn't have told them about the green-eyed hunter, but it didn't matter anymore. It would end here and now.

Mick felt his confidence rise again as he climbed onto a tree near the hall. The building's roof was flat, except for the chimney. Not much for a hiding, but Mick had been hiding long enough. Leaning against the chimney, he prepared his gun.

_Sometimes you tell the day_

_By the bottle that you drink_

_And times when you're alone all you do is think_

_I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride_

_I'm wanted dead or alive_

Wanted dead or alive, Bon Jovi

_Actually this chapter should be longer, but time's still not on my side. So there'll be another chapter concerning "One Shot Kill" a bit, and then it'll move on with the story._


	5. Long Way Home

_Sorry again… I don't know why, since this story has been running in my brain for so long, why it now won't go on. Okay, maybe it's just because of that. Anyway, I keep struggling with it, and this chapter drove me mad. So I think it's better not to promise any updating times cause I really don't know when I'll have the time or brains enough to finish it. In any case I will finish this story, that much I know._

_Thanks for all of you who keep reading, please don't stop ;-), and thank you, _narwhayley_, for reviewing. I'd be very glad if you guys&girls reading would also tell me what you think about it, even if you just think it's crap. Maybe that would get me over writer's block to prove you wrong^^_

_Right, I guess threatening readers is not the best thing to do, sorry… and on we go!++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++_

_Watching me and wanting me –_

_I can feel you pull me down._

_Fearing you, loving you,_

_I won't let you pull me down._

Haunted, Evanescence++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He should have known it.

Before he could locate the other's exact position, two black SUVs got into the shooting area. Mick didn't need to waste another second on checking out the drivers.

His teeth clenched together. Somehow he understood Coop only did what he had to do, and that he thought he would help Mick by showing him that he was not alone. Most of the time, Cooper's thoughts about Mick were fitting to an inch. They knew each other for more than eleven years – and what they had been through together was enough for a lifetime. There was one point, though, where their opinions differed: the value of a single life.

Mick would never ask for anyone to get into danger only to save himself. And he had always thought that though Coop couldn't understand that, he would accept that.

Obviously, he didn't.

Cursing under his breath, Mick scanned the area anew. He knew the signs he was looking for, but so far the other one didn't show up. Maybe he was waiting for somebody. His next victim. Mick's heart beat heavy as he saw the team lining up towards the memory hall. Each of them was a perfect aim. His breath got quicker. Without even looking at his cell, he speed-dialed Coop. "Beth's geo profile works well, doesn't it?" Cooper's smile was almost hearable through the phone, and Mick closed his eyes for a second. "Get out of the killing zone", he hissed, then, as if reminded by his own words, he opened his eyes again.

"Alright." Mick heard the other's steps getting faster. The hall's wide glass door opened and as Mick dared to look down again, the street was empty. He exhaled and let relief take over his body for a second.

"We're in. Can you see him?" Coop sounded worried now. "Not yet. Any ideas who he is?" "His name's Jason Wheeler, twenty-six, born and raised in Chicago. His father was a sniper in the first Iraq war and died two weeks ago." "It's him Wheeler wants to honor", nodded Mick, "though it's a crazy way to honor anybody. What do the father's war records say?" "Nothing remarkable. But we don't think Jason really wants to honor his father. Actually we think he tries to…"

"I got him." Mick rearranged his rifle. There was a reflection in one of the windows at his right. "Almost." Wheeler was somewhere between the thirty-ninth and the forty-second floor – the light had been too quick to see it exactly, but that didn't matter. Mick felt his heart slow down. Back in game. The name "Wheeler" didn't mean anything to him, but since when did a stalker need reasons for following someone? He had – somehow – assumed that his stalker would be someone he knew, someone from home perhaps. But he had been wrong before.

"Almost? Mick, watch the street!"

"Bloody idiot!" Mick saw another reflection as a white car stopped right before the memorial building. The man just stepping out was shot immediately, but it was from higher up this time, Wheeler must have switched.

"Mick?" "Almost." "The man's dying, I'm gonna get him!" "No, Gina, stay where you are!" "I can do this!"

The following seconds kept haunting Mick for weeks.

_The man on the street, bathed in his blood. His own breath, getting quicker against his training. His heart, racing and pounding so fiercely he could hear it. Gina running into the free area, obviously giving not one thought at her own security as she reached the wounded and pulled him away. A flash of light from above, causing Mick to look up, panicking now. Another shot, he didn't dare to look down, he couldn't watch, he couldn't think, he couldn't let it happen, not again, not with Gina,..._

"_Hey! Hey, I'm here!" Weeks later he would realize how stupid this action had been, but right at that moment Mick didn't care. He jumped up, throwing his gun away, waving, whatever he had to do. Damn Cooper, his life sure of hell was not worth Gina's._

She made it, of course. Coop had taken her right away from the academy for a reason.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

They met at one of the SUVs, Prophet leading Wheeler along. Mick's hands were still shaking and he wasn't sure whom he just wanted to shoot – Wheeler, Coop for getting the others into danger, Gina for trusting him far too much and almost dying for it.

Jason Wheeler smiled as he saw the other sniper approaching him. "There you are, Rawson"; he said smugly.

Mick just stared into the killer's eyes. Brown. They were brown. Jason Wheeler was a killer but he was not a stalker. He didn't know if that was a relief or a new annoyance. For a moment they just stood there, facing each other, two snipers thrown into a world they didn't belong to. "I had him", Mick heard himself say as Wheeler was brought away. Coop nodded. "I know." He searched Mick's eyes, too, but for the first time he couldn't find the way into the Welsh's mind. It was Gina who tore up the veil between Mick and world. "That was pretty close", she smiled, patting her colleague's back, "you went crazy, didn't you?" "Me? Crazy? You almost committed suicide out there!"

Beth and Prophet shared amused looks at their younger colleague's sad efforts not to show much they cared for each other. Beth sighed. "Kids! Let's go home."

"Okay, mom, let's hit it." Prophet's smile faded as he recognized two men coming along with Coop. "FBI? What are our guys doing here?"

Before Beth could even shrug – for that was the only thing she could do – the men reached them. "Agent Simms?" The voice was so sharp that Mick and Gina turned around, too. Prophet looked at his boss, then at the two agents. "That would be me. Who are you?"

"Agents Watson and Morris, sir. We need to have a word with you." Prophet nodded, but didn't move. He looked at Cooper, who clearly was unhappy with the situation. "Okay. Let's go." He sighed. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Hey, man, shut up! We'll wait." Mick had found his tongue again. From all of the team, Prophet was the only one to accept a "no". If he had been in charge, which would never happen since he wasn't a leader, maybe nothing would have happened. Maybe …

"No, it's okay. You should go home, I'll find a flight somewhere. It's okay." He nodded towards Coop and turned around, leaving the teaming confused and worried.

"What do they want from him?" Gina asked. Mick shook his head. "Don't know, love." I took him a few seconds to realize that she hadn't asked him in particular. Bloody hell, he needed to get out of here!

This time Coop read his mind. "Let's go home", he said. Both Gina and Beth looked at Mick, but he ignored them. "I'll be at the jet in half an hour." Coop nodded understandingly. "Take an hour."++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As he reached the plane it was all Prophet could do not to shoot anybody – and it was not easy anymore to make him that mad. He should have known it. Coop trusting him was not enough for the FBI. It was more than enough for him, though. And he knew that it would help nobody if he refused the psychological tests, but honestly – six hours? And more than the fact he was tested again, it was the humiliation that hurt. Once again it had been shown that for the FBI that he was all but an invader – he was more alien than even Mick.

"Excuse me? I just bought a last minute ticket, is the seat besides you…?" The woman's voice trailed off as Prophet stared at her. "Yeah… yeah, of course." He quickly took his jacket from the seat to his next, and with an exhausted smile she sat down. "Thank you." Her accent was strange, but oddly familiar. Automatically, Prophet scanned her up and down; her slim figure, scarred hands, deep shadows under blue eyes – which made her seem likably at once – and long, brunette hair. She was beautiful, in a dark and wild way. When the plane took off, she dug her fingers into the seat. "Bloody planes!"

"Those things are pretty safe", Prophet said absently. He looked out of the window, enchanted by the sunset. The clouds around the plane went golden and pink. Beneath him the sky got darker. Prophet felt his anger fading. This was worth it – not the humiliation, but the time he had lost. "Wow." He heard the reluctant adoration in the woman's voice, and it made him smile. He turned to face her, and she held the glance. "Still isn't worth it, though." "Why are you flying then?" She shrugged. "Isn't that my problem?" "Sure!" Prophet backed away as far as possible – which was not much. "I was just wondering what…" "Planes are fast. That's the only good thing about them. They are fast." She spoke quickly, almost as if to reassure herself. Then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment to gather her composure. "But since you've asked me I allow myself to ask you. What are you doing here?"

"I like flying" the Prophet answered, and chuckled at his own words. He spent too much time with Mick, obviously. Flirting, lying, never trusting anybody… that used to be his world right after his release out of prison. Well, except for the flirting thing. But since he had his badge back, he had learnt to trust people again. Since Coop trusted him.

What a good day of being suspect again could do to a man... The past was a curse.

"You're a bad liar, you know that?" The woman's glance had never left Prophet's face. He shrugged. "I don't like lying."

She nodded. "I see." Prophet was surprised at the bitterness in her voice. "Did I say…" "No, you didn't." Her eyes, staring at something only she could see were glowing. "You just said it wrong, like everyone does. You don't like liars, but you do like lying. Everyone likes lying. We lie day to day, in every third conversation at least. You are a man, you're bound to speak the truth more often than I do. Funny thing is that I didn't lie to you once and you just did it again. And still you expect us to trust you?" Prophet frowned. Now it was clear that she wasn't speaking to him anymore. "Who did lie to you?", he asked her, his voice almost gently now.

She shrugged. "Somebody that I used to know. Or thought I knew." She took a deep but sharp breath as if to prevent herself from crying. Then she looked at the Prophet again, her face blank now. "I'm sorry I bothered you, sir. Have a nice flight."

Before Prophet could even nod she was gone, run to the front of the plane. Two stewardesses tried to get her back to the seat, but she refused to – and after a look into her fiery eyes they just let her stand there.

It struck Prophet that she was lonely, and had been lonely for a long time. Whatever it was that made her flying when she was afraid of it must be very important to her.

"Excuse me", he asked one of the stewardesses, wondering at his own words, "do you know my neighbor's name? I'm a federal agent", he added as he noticed her nervous look. "Maybe I can calm her down." "Please!", she sighed, "we'll start to sink in ten minutes, and she must be at her seat then!" "Of course."

Ten minutes? Had he been asleep? How long had he been dreaming? The stewardess scanned the files in front of her. "Last minute-tickets, row seventeen… I can't be sure about it, but the passport should be on Katherine Austen." Prophet nodded and stood up.

"Katherine?" She jerked at the name. "Kate. And you?" Her voice was still chilly. He hesitated. "Prophet. Not my given name, but…" Kate nodded. "Thank you." She swallowed. "You want me to go back, don't you? Bloody tight seat. No chance to get away if the damn thing blows up…" She bit her lip. A bitter grin flickered over her face, then she straightened up and passed him to sit down again.

Smiling, Prophet followed her. "Those things are pretty safe"; he said. Kate chuckled. "Really?" It took Prophet a second. "I already said that, didn't I?" "You did." Her voice was gentler now, but he could see how tensed she was, her body stiff with fear – and pride. She forced herself to laugh, and Prophet fell in – to calm her down, at first. In the end he found himself laughing louder than Kate, and it was his voice that went more hysterical. Why couldn't life ever be easy?

"Sorry", he said when he had calmed down, "normally I…" "Yeah, I know." Kate smiled smugly. "Normally you don't lie and you don't behave that way. You're an honorable member of society." The way she said it it almost sounded like an insult. Before Prophet could say anything to defend himself, she added, "I know I'm the bad cop in this…" she hesitated only for a second, "and to fulfill my evil task I think you need something to drink once we've survived our journey."

"You think?" Prophet was surprised, and delighted, which surprised him even more. "Alright. Where do you wanna go?" She shrugged. "I don't care. Somewhere where they got the good stuff." Her smile had completely changed. It was seductive now, and though Prophet felt charmed he couldn't quite shake the feeling of danger and fraud that crawled up his spine in goose bumps. It had been too long – and it would be too good.

He kept silent till they left the airport, both having travelled without luggage. Kate was obviously relieved to have firm ground underneath her feet, she beamed as they walked out into the dark warm night. "So where are we going now?"

"What are you here for?" Now it was Prophet's voice to be cold. Kate turned around, looking confused. "What do you mean?"  
Prophet showed his badge. "FBI. What are you doing here? What is your plan?" Kate laughed softly and shook her head, as if he had just missed the point.

"FBI. I got it you were something like a cop, but… those guys. I imagined them… differently." Her voice was sarcastic again, and the smile on her face was a mixture between arrogance and resignation. Prophet held the glance she threw at him, and after a while, Kate lowered her head. "Sorry"; she said tonelessly. "I just… yeah, there's more to it." She looked up for a moment, then down again. Her voice was so low Prophet had to come near her. "I came here to find out whom I can trust. For right now I don't trust anybody, and you something? That sucks." She looked up again, and there was the fire again. Prophet knew she was telling him the truth now – maybe not all of it. "Do you know that feeling when you think you know someone? And then he goes and does something you'd never have expected, and you sit there and can't do nothing against it? And you have to watch while your whole world breaks down because he's been such a big and important part of it?"

Prophet swallowed. "Yes." _Elizabeth_. She had been his wife for three years, his best friend for eight when he had gone to prison. They hadn't had children, but he still had expected her to understand him. That was too much expected, he knew that by now, but still it hurt. It hurt to think about her, and how much he had loved her, and how she had stopped seeing him after two months. The divorce suit had been brought to him by her lawyer.

"Good." Relief thickened Kate's accent. She must be European, it struck him, something British – not Welsh, but probably Irish. He nodded.

"I mean, I'm…sorry for what happened to you but… I' just glad you understand."

He nodded again. "I do. So what's in Washington? Don't tell me you live here."

"Gods be good, no." Kate shrugged. "I don't know. Him. He's there. I need to see him before… before…"

"Before you can end it with him?"  
"Yeah." She chuckled. "That's a good way to put it. Let's call it end it with him." She bit her lips as if she had said too much. "Well, then…"  
"Then you owe me a drink", Prophet said, smiling. Kate stared at him in disbelief. "I thought I was a prime suspect?"

"You aren't. Except if living against the odds is a crime. Which would make me a criminal as well."

Kate's eyebrows went high. "Against the odds? Must be a terrible story if you can afford that much self-pity."

This time she didn't look away. There was a challenge in her eyes, a challenge about life and love and pride and freedom. Prophet felt his throat going dry and something deep inside stirred. For over a minute they just looked at each other. Then the agent nodded. "Right." He took a deep breath. "So it's just living, then?"

She nodded. "Just living. Good old listening-to-your-heart stuff." She quickly wiped a tear out of her eye. "Maybe the against all odds wasn't that bad."

"Maybe." He gently took her hand, and she frowned but didn't pull back. "Let's go for the good stuff."

_Yeah, I'm ready to feel now,_

_Now longer I'm afraid of the fall now._

_It must be time to move on now,_

_Without the fear of how it might end._

Ready to love again, Lady Antebellum


	6. Dangerous Minds

I just realized that this chapter might be very… confused, to say it nicely. But I promise it'll explain itself later. This chapter circles around two pairs that may be intertwined somehow, but in the next one the focus will lie on the whole of the team, especially Prophet and a bit of a jealous Gina, maybe. Please keep on reading and please review!

_In the arms of an angel  
fly away from here -  
from this dark, cold hotel room  
and the endlessness that you fear.  
_ In the arms of an angel, Sarah McLaughlin

"You should have told me earlier." Coop shot him a glance from beside.  
Mick shrugged. "You should have let me go alone." Another sip of beer, not even half as strong as what he would need now.  
"If I had, you'd be dead, now, Mick. And it would have been for nothing."  
Mick shrugged again.  
"Listen, Jason Wheeler would have started to kill anyway. It's not…"  
"Yeah I know it's not my bloody fault, okay? Can we please change the damn topic now?" Emptying the bottle, Mick stood up and went over to the bar. Feeling Coop's eyes on his back he returned several minutes later, two big glasses in his hands.  
"What's that?"  
"Dunno. I said my boss wants to celebrate that he's got rid of another jackass and that's what they gave me. And the waitress' phone number but I kind of guess you're not interested." As Mick put down one glass in front of Cooper, he smiled broadly. Coop nodded. "Alright. Let's change topic. And stop using me for getting numbers."  
"Sounds like a deal, mate!" Mick grinned, then he pressed his lips together tightly. It wasn't the alcohol that made him ramble. It was the feeling that he still was watched, that right now there might be someone checking out his apartment or waiting right outside the bar.  
Coop noticed the flickering glances to the door, but he didn't push the matter. "How's Jenna doing?"  
"She says she's doing fine. Some of my old colleagues came home two weeks ago and checked up on her. Remember Adrew Callaghan? He's moved in with Jenna's best friend, and him and Daniels and O'Connor kind of make the new veteran's gang. Whatever."  
"I thought you didn't like O'Connor."  
"I don't. He's an idiot." Mick emptied the drink and shuddered. "Bloody idiot but at least he's cautious. He won't let anything happen to her."  
Thinking of Jenna didn't make it so much easier. What if the stalker was behind her as well? Not the same stalker, of course – but who knew? Maybe it was a plot against the Rawsons. Then again, Jenna had never done anything wrong, Mick had seen to that. She was innocent in every way but drinking, and she was loved and adored and protected by their foster parents, and lots of suitors as well. Nothing would happen to her, he had to believe that. He had to.

"You think you should know him", Coop stated after a while of silence.  
Mick managed a grin. "So much for changing the topic, uh?" He closed his eyes. Coop was right. Those eyes… he was sure he had never seen them before, but they were familiar. And that meant, likely, they were Welsh.  
Mick swallowed heavily. He had managed to avoid a certain thought till now, because it simply didn't make sense and because even thinking it would be a betrayal to the first home he had ever had, but since Coop had mentioned Jenna at home, he couldn't shake it anymore. What if?

What if the stalker was someone from the academy? What if someone tried to kill snipers, and their families? He had just said that Jenna would be protected by former – or, in Callaghan's case, actual – SAS soldiers. What if the danger came from right these men?

"Mick?" Carefully Coop took Mick's hand in his, winding loose the fingers that were just trying to crush the empty glass. "Tell me what I can do."  
Mick looked at his best friend with hollow eyes. "Tell me I'm crazy."  
Coop smiled, but worry remained in his eyes. "You are. So what goes on in that crazy mind of yours?"  
Mick nodded in relief. That was one of the reasons he would follow Samuel Cooper into hell and back: He always found a way to say what must be said, or do what must be done. Mick wasn't always happy with the way Coop worked – too soft sometimes, too much trying to see the good in people that just wasn't there – but he knew that whatever he would put into his hands, Coop would protect it. Whether it was Mick's life or a suspicion that drove him insane, or – even Jenna's life. There was nothing he couldn't trust Coop with, and he was more than thankful for it.

"I think… crazy, remember? I think I know the guy. From… somewhere. I know the shape of his eyes. I know that he wants me to know he's after me, but so far he doesn't do anything, he just… pops up right behind me and follows me. When I get rid of him I can't say if it's because I'm good at shaking people off or if it's because he lets me go. And somehow I just thought he… he…" He closed his eyes. This was crazy! If they hadn't talked about Jenna he wouldn't even think about his colleagues being a danger. They were his brothers, sworn in blood to go through fire, ice, death and alocohol-free zones together. Their bond was real.

Still…if there was the slightest chance that one of them was after them, it was very likely that someone was after his little sister, too. If just to blackmail him.  
He couldn't have anything happen to her.

Coop waited patiently for Mick to decide. He knew that it wasn't a question of Mick trusting him, but of Mick trusting himself.

"If I'd follow my crazy ways… this guy could be from the academy." Ashamed Mick stared at the bottom of the glass.  
Coop nodded slowly. "I see."  
"Yeah, do you? Cause I don't", Mick snapped, angry at himself, at the world…okay, at everything. He mistrusted his friends. He had just made a traitor out of himself. Just because of the green-eyed goblin following him. Maybe he should just shoot directly at those eyes next time he saw them. Why hadn't he done so anyway?

"Have you tried calling someone from your old squad? Is there anyone you could trust?" Coop was very serious now, and that made it even worse. Because it seemed so much more real now.  
Mick shrugged. "Why? It's just crazy, remember. Bloody crazy idea that almost got Gina killed today." Automatically, he took up his glass only to realize again that it was empty.  
"I'm back in a sec." The other one nodded understandingly. Normally Mick would've asked him if he would like another drink, too – but right now the Welsh needed to be alone. As he waited in the queue to get another beer, his mind raced through all the faces from the academy, through all the guys he had seen in military hospital, through all his old friends. Who could it be? Or whose relatives could it be, because none of the green-eyed comrades he had had fit the shape of those eyes?

He sighed. There were dozens of men who could hold a grudge against him – because he had stolen their girlfriends or outranked them or had mocked them. But those were different times. If one of them had sought revenge, he would have killed Mick from behind during a battle. In any case the surely would be no danger for Jenna.

Then it struck him. _Matt Austen._ It was not common knowledge that he had been shot by one of them, but it wasn't a secret, either. There was a lot of rumor about who did it and why, and many of them who had fought with Matt guessed pretty much what had happened.  
What if somehow Matt's family had found out that it was him? They surely didn't understand the reasons, if they had even heard them. Mick couldn't blame them – he wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. What had happened to Matt was one of the worst things he could imagine. Sometimes he thought that his death had been a relief for the traumatized soldier.  
Nevertheless, Matt kept haunting him in his dreams.

And maybe his family was haunting him in reality.

Forgetting about his drink, Mick pulled out his cell. Coop saw him leaving the bar at the back door. He ordered another two beers and waited.

- CMSB-CMSB-CMSB-CMSB-CMSB-CMSB-

"No, no I didn't hear that! Where do you…" Kate sighed as her cell started to ring. Her eyes got wide as she saw the name and picture on the display. Curiously, Prophet looked at it. "Sophia" it read.  
"Pretty, isn't she? My cousin", Kate smirked as Prophet quickly backed off in shame, "she's just written her college applications. I wonder what she's up right noe…" The smile vanished as she checked the time.  
Prophet did the same, and was surprised. It didn't feel like four hours they'd spent here. Not at all.  
"I'm sorry, I gotta take this call, I…" "Sure." Prophet smiled gently and Kate smiled back relieved before she rushed out of the crowded bar.  
Prophet ordered another two beers and waited.

"Rawson, is that you?" Kate scanned the area. So far she was alone – except someone was hiding in the buildings on the other side of the street. She stayed outside the lantern's glow.  
"Hey, Leah." Mick sounded anxious, in a way that both alarmed and relieved her.  
"You sound great, mate, what the hell's wrong?" Getting straight to the point. She hadn't talked to him for almost six years, there was a reason behind his calling. And she was almost sure she knew it.  
"Fast as always, uh? I though girls want some foreplay?"  
"If you need one, go ahead. Call me again when you're done." She heard him laughing and automatically smiled. She had so missed it. Missed him.  
"You know what, Lee, I missed you."  
"No, you didn't." She bit her lips not to cry. "You never called me back, you bad boy!" Flirting and mocking while your world was crashing down. God knew she was as good as him at playing this game.  
Another small laughter. "I'm sorry, Lee."  
And he still used her nickname. Leah straightened up and forced the smile away.  
"I'm on a date, Rawson, what do you want?"  
"Oh…" Was that disappointment?  
"Right, maybe I call you later. Could last longer."  
"Yeah, I bet."  
"Leah, it's… is there…" She could almost see him hesitating, biting his lips, drumming at the walls with his fingers, his eyes checking at the surroundings as if there was some help.  
"Did you recently check up on Matt's… grave?"  
"Grave? God bloody no! Why?"  
"Never mind."  
Leah sighed. "Mick, if you don't trust me, just don't call me, right? Have a nice life." She hung up and went in again, switching her cell on silent so she wouldn't listen for him calling her all the time.

She liked Prophet. He was decent, he was honest, he cared for the people around him. And he was funny in his own way. As she saw him waiting for her with another round, Leah couldn't help but smile. "Thanks for waiting. And sorry", she rolled her eyes, "Soph just wanted to tell me about a concert she was at."  
"So how was it?"  
"I don't know", Leah laughed, impressed by the man's real interest. Or was it cautioness? She sighed and took another sip of beer. "I just know that she cried and whooed so much that she's got no voice right now. And I mean NO voice. I told her to go to sleep and call me tomorrow."  
Prophet smiled. "I remember my concert time. Those were rough nights." He chuckled at his own words.

Three hours later Prophet drove her to a small hotel in the inner city. His mind was half on offering her to stay at his place, but since he didn't know how long it would take her to get rid of her love, he decided against it. Also, Kate needed to be alone, and he understood and respected that. He just hoped…  
"When you're done here, can we meet again and say good-bye?" He managed to ask it lighthearted, but Kate's smile was already more precious than many things had been in the past half year.  
"I'd love to", she said. "Can I call you when I feel like killing somebody? Just to remind me that the FBI's near?"  
He laughed. "Of course."

As she got ready for bed, Leah checked her cell. There was a message on the voicemail.  
_"Screw it, Leah, I trust you! I bloody do so call me back as soon as you can, right? Anytime."_

Leah smiled sadly and switched off the light.  
Typical Rawson's charme.

It was pity she would have to kill him.

_Have a beer for me,  
Don't waste no tears on me […]  
And find someone good enough for Amy  
who would love her like I would have  
If I don't make it back.  
_If I don't make it back, Tracy Lawrence


	7. Wrong time, wrong place

_Sorry it's taken so long to update this. I think something has changed in my style, though I couldn't exactly say what it is (and I'm afraid it's for the worse.) In any case I don't feel the characters like I did before, unfortunately. I just hope it's temporarily and I'll get on with this for real again soon. So far, everyone who's still reading, thank you very much, and don't forget reviewing! ;)_

_Somehow  
I know that I am haunted to be wanted  
I've been watching  
I've been waiting  
In the shadows all my time  
_In The Shadows, The Rasmus

Next morning found the team unusually quiet. Beth and Gina tried to act normal while both regularly peered over to Coop and Mick who also tried to act normal, though actually Cooper was also watching Mick. He knew how much the last evening bothered him, probably more than the stalker himself. Admitting he didn't trust his old army brothers was a very big deal for the sniper, and a proof of trust Coop would be thankful for – if it didn't bring Mick down like this. He seemed even more restless now than when they had parted only six hours ago.  
With a quick glance around Cooper realized that Gina's eyes were glued to Mick, and Beth – she blushed a little when she met his glance, but he couldn't say why. Not really. Only…

The agent shook his head in a silent reprimand to himself and turned to the last team member. With all worrying about Mick, he had almost forgotten about Prophet, and had only in the morning called him to check if he was okay – in vain, as Prophet hadn't answered the call.  
Shortly before Cooper really started to worry about him, too, however, the other agent arrived, with a smile on his face and his cell glued to his ear. The sight was so extraordinary that Beth and Gina found their eyes dropping from their targets. In silence the team waited for Prophet to end his call.  
"Yeah, sure, I'll call you as soon as I know more… depends only on how bad the world gets today… right, it's Washington, can't get worse… alright… see you. Bye." He turned around to face his colleagues. "Hi, guys. Sorry I'm late."

"No problem, mate" Mick smirked. Whatever was bothering him was hidden behind a mischievous grin as always."Rough night?"  
Prophet laughed but before he could find an answer Mick's phone started to ring. Sighing the sniper pulled out the cell. "Don't think I let you off the hook…" He checked the display and got serious immediately. Cooper had the feeling that he knew who the caller must be.  
"Give me a minute" Mick murmured and almost ran out of the room while picking up.

Gina's glance moved to Mick's back again, and this time she didn't even bother to hide her anxiety. "What's wrong with him?"  
"No idea" Prophet murmured, unsure if he should be relieved he wouldn't have to talk about last night – or if he should rather be disappointed about it. But actually, what did he have to tell? They hadn't done anything, and Prophet had a quite exact idea of how Mick would react at the end of the story. It was probably better to keep his private life – private. Bad enough that he was even thinking about it, he got far too used to this team.  
Beth was far less interested in Mick's problems than the rest of the team. As much as she knew the sniper would be on top again soon – and she was ready to give her colleague all the privacy he asked for, knowing that he would give her the same space if she needed it. With Prophet, however, it was something different. "So… Mick's gone doesn't mean you're… off the hook, to say it with his words. Was she blonde or black?"

„Lee? Thanks for calling back, I almost thought you'd screwed me."  
"Which I'd have every right to do."  
"Probably. So… where did we end yesterday?" Mick was playing for time. It was one thing to get nervous and call home – it was another thing to finally put your nervousness into words.  
"Fuck it, Rawson, get the hell over it." Leah tried her best to sound irritated, but truth be told she was enjoying the conversation right now even more than the call from Prophet.  
"Yeah… I know." Mick paced the floor again."You're home right now?"  
A bitter laughter. "There's no home for the likes of us. I thought you'd figured that out, or why did you run over to big brother?"  
Fair enough. Automatically Mick turned around, back to where his team was probably just starting a new case. For a second he thought he'd see Gina standing at the far end of the corridor, and the thought made him smile. It meant she was over him yelling at her the day before – though she'd never admit that he was right – and being overprotective in her own, kind of helpless way told him that she was okay with the world and herself, too. Well, at least as much as Gina LaSalle could be okay with herself. Mick sighed. Cooper and he had spent hours talking about Gina's self-confidence-issues and how to get a stupid father's voice out of your head, but since Mick hadn't had a father for most of his life, he was no big help. It was all he could do to watch over her and try to make her smile every day – and be there for her if she let her shield down. Which happened rarely enough and most of the times it ended with Gina being angrier at herself than before – similar to himself, oddly given the fact that they were coming from two different worlds.  
Inner demons and voices in the head were good enough for – yeah, for the likes of him and Leah and their comrades. Gina shouldn't have to live that way, she was far too innocent, probably more innocent even than Jenna.

"Fuck no! I'm not in Wales right now. Why?" Now Leah didn't have to play irritated anymore. She had not as much time as she wished she had. Sixty days for seven killings, that was the deal, and the last one had cost her sixteen days. She was at day fifty-one and five killings now, and after that she still had to come… well, to whatever home she would have after she was finished.

"Okay." Mick's mind was still with Gina. As much as he was relieved to have Leah calling him back, now all he wanted to do was hang up on her. Only he knew that if he did, she'd probably track him down somehow and abduct him only to get the rest of their phone call done.  
"Where are you?"  
"What do you want, Mick? " No way she would tell him.  
"I'm not sure… Lee, don't get all bitchy on me, right? I ain't got no one else to call for."  
"Yeah I thought so." She couldn't hide the tension in her voice. "What's wrong?"  
Mick closed his eyes. "I got a stalker, mate. Real bloody damn follower. Can't shake him, he pops up and disappears sooner or later."  
Leah breathed in sharply. "You sure?"  
"Damn it, Leah, of course I'm sure!" It was all he could do not to hurl the cell to the ground. "I've got a fucking stalker who's been trained as we are, and he's after me for a week. I don't know what he wants. I don't know who he is, I don't know nothing!"  
"Okay, Mick." She forced herself to stay calm while trying to calm him down, too. "And you think it's something about Matt or what were you trying to say with this grave journey?"  
The agent smiled bitterly. "Kind of. Talk about trust."  
Another sharp breath. Leah checked her surroundings again. So it was true? Mick Rawson had lost faith in the pack? And why would he do that – was it the stalker or had it started before?  
The sniper girl closed her eyes. So far he still trusted her. If he was a traitor, she'd find out. Still nine days to go, or maybe she should check on number 7 before she turned her whole attention on Mick. 7 was Ben – she'd get him in an hour once she'd found out his exact position.  
"Lee, you're with me? Say something!"  
"You think one of us been spying on you." Her voice was all business now. "You know what that's called, Rawson? I can get kicked my ass out for just listening."  
"I know." Mick sounded exhausted now, and despite everything Leah felt her stupid heart go out to him again. Bloody idiot.

She hadn't lied to Prophet. There was this guy from her past she needed to forget. More than forget, actually. Leah sighed. If only it would be that easy. Even now she wasn't sure about him; about truth… it was not the first time for her to wish she'd died back in Afghanistan that night in his arms.  
If only she could really fall in love with Prophet! He was so kind, so straight… yeah. He was kind of everything she was not. Fallen into darkness but crawled out of it.  
Leah bit her lips. She'd never see light again so she might as well get over it.

"Leah?" There was only the slightest trace of hope left in Mick's voice.  
"I'm here" she heard herself saying, it was so easy to lie to him. Or better: so easy to lie to herself.  
"I don't know what you want from me, though. I ain't heard nothing about Matt, and I sure as bloody hell will not visit his grave. That boy's been laid to rest, thanks to you, and…"  
"I think it's that" Mick interrupted, "I think it's just about that. Someone's wanting to take revenge."  
"And flies over? You really think you're that important? God, Mick."  
Mick laughed sadly. "I know. I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't… I can't have them go after Jenna just to get me. I won't have that happening."  
"Sure. Listen, Mick, I gotta go. I'll try to ask around and call you back, right? Keep your ass out of dark streets and try not to get killed."  
A sigh of relief was heard. "Thanks, Lee. I owe you one."  
"Bet you do."

As Mick entered the bureau silence it was filled with laughter. Obviously he had missed Prophet's story. He was not sure if calling Leah had been right, since actually he didn't know more now. And he was probably bringing her in danger, too. He paused at the closed door, forcing his usual grin onto his lips. The past was rising but he wouldn't let it wind its way into the team's present. This was just as little their business as Wheeler had been, and their getting into it had almost ended in Gina getting killed. He wasn't sure he would survive losing her. Those Americans slowly grew on him. Prophet as well – and even if Mick would never be able to trust the man as fully as he seemed to trust him, he owed him to pay attention to his rough night-story. His first and probably last rough night-story.

"C'mon, man, don't tell me you've started without me" he grinned as he entered the room. Prophet was standing in the middle, a very unlikely position for him, and smiled broadly. Mick shook his head. "That girl must've made an impression, mate. You're gleaming like a bloody Christmas tree." "Like a what?" Gina smiled at the strange comparison to hide her frustration. She knew it had been a woman on the other end of the line. She had never before seen him calling one of his dates, and it hadn't been Jenna, either, so… whoever that woman was she must be important. That thought hurt more than she cared to admit.  
"No way, Mick, you've come too late" Beth grinned mischievously. "We've got work to do. And we've got a date to organize, don't we?"  
Prophet sighed. "I never should have told you at all." He looked at Mick. "How do you keep her out of your private life?"  
"Mick's got no private life" Beth answered before the sniper could even open his mouth, "private's something special and individual, that doesn't work too well with the same old story every day. Nothing special anymore when you don't even remember a girl's name."  
"Oh c'mon, Beth, you're still angry about that?" Mick felt his forced light-headed mood falter. "I remembered it, right? Her name's Elise."  
"Elise What?" Beth wasn't impressed. "You know the color of her eyes? Her age? Her job?" Her eyes burnt into Mick's head. "Do you ever think about what those girls might think of you?"  
"Okay, Beth, that's enough." Prophet stepped between the two of them, obviously as confused as Mick was. "I think most young women today know what they do when they sleep with a guy they just met in a bar."  
"Oh, do they?"  
"Yeah, they do." He gently grabbed his colleague's arms, trying to calm her down.

Mick shot a glance to Gina but she avoided his eyes. Probably she was thinking the same, very likely, actually, but why hadn't she said it, then? What was it between the two of them lately? And why was Beth so… not that she was ever really what he'd call normal but right now she was simply going crazy.

"Where`s Coop?" he asked eventually, going for a safe track. To his relief Gina took the hint. "I don't know. Beth. You know what's happened?"  
"Yes, Beth" Prophet fell in, "you know something we don't?"  
Beth's grin was still aggressive as she wound out of Prophet's grip. "Damn well I do. Sam's calling Aaron Hotchner from Quantico. It seems like there's a serial killer working his way all through the country, and now he's arrived here. And his last victim was…" with a big gesture she threw the photos onto the table and as they all moved closer to look at them it got hard for Mick to breathe. No. Not again, it could not start to get real here, he needed to control this and he couldn't. This couldn't happen. Who was the damn guy? And what the hell did he want?

He backed away from the table, shivering. His glance, flying through the room in search for an exit found Beth's. The anger was gone, he saw his own shock mirrored in her eyes, and even a tiny flake of understanding.

It was real. It was real and it was happening here, around his team, around innocent people, and it was all because of him. People had died. And people would die. Because of him.

And Elise Brooks – Brooks, that had been her last name, arrived here just that day from Portland – was now one of them.

_There were days when the sun was so cruel  
that all the tears turned to dust […]  
It was gone with the wind  
but it's all coming back to me  
The flesh and the fantasies,  
All coming back to me.  
I can barely recall  
But it's all coming back to me now._  
It's all coming back to me now, Celine Dion


	8. Accepting The Challenge

_I'm tired of being what you want me to be  
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface,  
[…]I've become so tired,  
So much more aware  
I'm becoming this  
_Numb, Linkin Park

_Elise_.  
Mick didn't hear the rest of what Beth said, nor did he see Gina's worried face anymore. He took one of the pictures the coroner had taken and stared at it, taking in every detail of the little piece that had become his whole world.  
_Again_. There was someone haunting him, and once again he was left unharmed while others had to perish. Innocent others – Elise had died to mock him, he knew it and it made him sick.  
This was not the team's fight. How many people needed to die till the others would get that?

Elise. As his fingers followed the blood over her face Mick realized she had grey eyes. He hadn't known it before. He remembered her dream to work at the university as an assistant teacher for biology, though. Different, that was what had attracted him. She wasn't as stupid as most of her colleagues who came to big cities because they wanted to be actresses. She hadn't been so stupid, at least.  
In any case she had been stupid enough to sleep with him. Three hours. It had cost her life. And though Mick had not pulled the trigger – a long rifle, just like the ones he had used to shoot with – he knew the young woman's blood was on his hands. He had killed her.

"Mick? Mick? Gina, could you please hit him?"  
He jerked before the blonde agent could touch him, causing her to jerk as well. "What's wrong, Beth? What did I do now?"  
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for… right that." Beth seemed really contrite. "But since you're the last one having seen her alive, we need to…"  
"Question me. I know." Mick smiled sourly, running his hand through his hair. "Go ahead. Are her parents informed?"  
"Yes, they're on their way." Sam stepped into the room, his face lined with sorrow. "I just talked to Hotch" he said, his eyes locking with Mick's, "they were just thinking about calling you. They've got another sniper's case."

Gina gasped and automatically moved closer to Mick again. The Welsh didn't move, his face giving nothing away. At least not for the others. Coop, however, could read the tension and anger building up in his friend at once. And there was still another bomb to throw at him.

Mick felt something still coming, too. It seemed like they were back in war again together, just the two of them. Every word uttered loudly was too much, given the fact that they were surrounded by enemy forces. They had learnt to rely on each other in those days, and to understand each other without talking.  
"What?" he asked hoarsely.  
Cooper sighed.  
Beth couldn't shake the feeling that both he and Mick were far away now, in a world none of the other team members could enter.

Cooper grabbed Mick's shoulder, just the way Gina had wanted to only seconds before. She was still standing right behind him, as if to catch him should he fall. Poor girl.

Mick's eyes fell from his friend's face to the heavy hand. He opened his mouth but stayed still. No need to repeat the question. He waited.  
"They were all British soldiers. Snipers." Coop squeezed the younger ones shoulder. "I think you knew some of them."

Mick nodded numbly. "'Kay." A flat intake of air. "Any suspects yet?"  
"Don't you wanna know who they were?" Gina blurted out, her eyes wide with compassion. "Mick, those guys were…"  
"Is it necessary to go through all of their lives' history to get their killer?" The sniper's eyes were still fixed on Cooper's hand, gripping firmly into his jersey. "I know them. Most of them leave nothing behind. Let's find that bloody asshole and kill him."  
It was much for Beth not to react at the "kill him" but she knew it would be futile. Mick wasn't really here, and she couldn't even blame him right now. But if he didn't wake up in the next thirty seconds, Gina would probably start to cry.

"So is Elise Brooks the only civilian to be killed by this guy? That's a very fair change in profile."  
"Because this is not about a serial killer's preferences but about me."  
Jackpot. Mick was in again. Beth couldn't hide a smile at the sight of Gina, relaxing a bit and finally daring to pat him on the back.

Mick turned half back to Gina, as if thanking her for the gesture, then his attention returned to Cooper, and the files in his hands. "How many?"  
"Eight so far. And Elise Brooks isn't the first. The first civilian victim was a young woman from Texas." The agent halted for a moment. "Born in Swansea, Wales."  
Mick's fist hit the desktop. "Now can you please stop pretending this isn't about me?"  
"Calm down, mate, you're not related to everyone coming from Wales." Prophet raised his hand as Mick wanted to interrupt, "and you've been on the wrong way when thinking that Jason Wheeler was about you."  
"He was! Goddammit, he was! He did all of that to impress me, because I was the thing closest to his fuck-off father he lost! I was wrong about him being my stalker, but the rest was right! And-" He broke off midsentence, shivering with rage and helplessness. At the edge of his mind he felt the realization dropping in. His comrades were being killed. Seven of them were already dead.  
It didn't make sense at all. Why were they all killed in the United States? And was it his stalker all alone? Did that mean…

"Mick? Mick, talk to me!" Cooper had noticed the change in his friend's behavior, and he knew him well enough not to like the sudden calmness. "Hey! What's going on in that bloody brain of yours?"  
Mick laughed obediently at the older man's try to use British phrases. "I know who the next victim's gonna be" he said, totally composed. "I can't tell you who kills them, I can't tell you why, but…" He stopped, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does" Beth prompted sincerely. "It does, Mick. And I'm sorry for what I said earlier, I really am. Is there anything we can do to help you?"  
Cooper smiled at her. Every now and then Mick needed to be reminded that he was not in war anymore, and that – more important, even – he was not alone anymore. It wasn't even only the two of them, it was a whole team. They had other possibilities now to solve problems.  
Mick smiled briefly at his colleague. "Thanks, Beth. Well…" his glance trailed over the pictures again, "let's start with what's the other civilian's name?"

"Ava McLeary." Cooper handed him the file. "She was shot in her garden, no coverage around, just fields and hills… she had no chance."  
Mick was away again. He hadn't known for which name he had waited till he had heard it. Ava McLeary. Colonel Ryder's goddaughter, not quite a warrior, but a gentle and very witty soul. Plain, though. A good friend of Leah.  
And Matt Austen's fiancée.

"Who was she?" Gina asked tensely, sparks in her eyes.  
Mick sighed. "I thought she was the one stalking me. Or at least a friend of hers."  
"But a friend ready to kill _for her_ would not kill _her _as well" Prophet summarized.  
Mick nodded. "I'd say so, yeah."

"Alright then" Cooper stood up, making sure to get all his team's eyes on him. Time to start working before they'd all fall into a mixture of bad memories and conspiracy theories. "Let's do this just like a normal case! We've got the victims, we've got the weapon, now let's get to know the reason behind it all. It could still be Mick's stalker, it could be someone else. Beth, I want you to do the background check on the victims, everything they've ever said and done, every kind of connection between them, and…" he took a deep breath, "and try to find any connection to Mick, too."  
The sniper nodded in relief. That was a beginning. It would be too late, but it was a beginning.

"Gina, you got help Beth on this. Penelope's currently working with Hotch, we're teaming up with them tomorrow morning, I want our own information pool till then. The more we got the eaiser we can separate the important details. Prophet, I want you and Mick to talk to Elise Brooks' parents. See what you can find out."  
"Honestly, man?" Mick exploded. "You want me to see them? What should I ask them? Besides fucking a guy whose mere being is a threat to any innocents, is there any other reason someone should put a bullet in your daughter's head? She made any enemies on her first day away from home? We know what happened to her! We know why it happened! Stop slowing things just cause you don't like 'em!"

"Mick…" Gina stared at him, aghast. Mick breathed in quickly before he turned to her, obviously trying to calm down. "Yeah, love, what's up?"  
Gina wasn't as good in hiding feelings as he was. The horror sat clear in her eyes, and it brought Mick down a bit. Tiredly he rubbed over his face.  
"I'm sorry, Gina. Really. To y'all."  
He looked at Coop, his anger by no means gone. "I gotta call Leah again. Maybe she knows something, at least I owe her to tell her about Ava."

Leah. Cooper marked the name in his mind – another name to be checked. "Alright. And if she's around, get her here. We need every help we can get."  
Mick grinned bitterly. "Wouldn't bet on Leah Owens to help the FBI."  
Cooper shrugged. "But she might help you." He looked at his friends closely. "We're all in this now, Mick. It's not a personal task, no matter what this man wants."  
"Yeah of course" Mick's expression was still bitter. "What do you want from me, Coop?"  
"I want you to know I won't let you down, brother."  
At this the Welsh straightened up. "I know" he said seriously, "I know you won't. And no matter how shitty it all gets neither won't I. You know that."  
"I know" Coop said gently, holding his hand up for Mick to grasp it firmly.

"Leah? C'mon, I know you're here, get on the fucking phone!" Or was she the next? Could it be the stalker had followed her, too, without her noticing? No, that couldn't be. Leah was as good a marksman and spoor tracker as he was. Some even said she was better.  
"Nothing found out since you called me ten minutes ago, Rawson."  
Ten minutes. It didn't need long to shake a life up. Not that this should surprise him.  
"I've got something."  
"Yeah? Tell me. Sounds thrilling."  
Mick smiled sadly. He knew Leah well enough to know that the more ironic she got, the more worried she was. And that she interrupted him after every third word wasn't a good sign, either. He was pretty sure she was tiptoeing right now, her left hand opening and closing a fist.  
"Okay, dammit, Mick, what's going on?"  
Her voice was changed now. Mick closed his eyes. Obviously she had just remembered that he saw right through her, even if he didn't really see her. Spending three years together in a military academy and then another one and a half year out in war will see to that. Especially when you share a bed for roughly two years.  
He owed her to be honest now, too.  
"Ava McLeary's got killed. I thought maybe she could be the st…"  
"The stalker?" Leah did her best to hide the emotion in her voice, and Mick smiled again. So proud.  
"Come on, Mick, she went out whenever you guys came to your war stories. She couldn't kill her for her own life! Bloody angel!" Leah wasn't the crying type, but her voice was throaty. "How?"  
"Shot by one of us." Why wasting time suspecting? It had been a British rifle, after all.

"By… what?" Now every fake calmness was gone. Leah jumped up, pacing the room. "What do you mean, one of us?"  
How could that be? Another one? But sent after someone like Ava? What good would that do? And why hadn't she been informed?  
"Well…" Mick was vexed. "Who did you think was stalking me, uh? It must be one of us."  
"Sure." Leah did her best to keep her voice even, but she was close to hysterics. "But thinking it might have been Ava is just stupid, so…"  
"Exactly. So whoever it is, he's after us – there's been some more of us killed. Soldiers. I guess the stalker must've watched them, too. Before killing them. I guess the next one is me."  
"Whatchadon't say." This seemed to frighten Leah less than her friend's death. Mick's confusion grew.  
"You know something I don't?"  
"I… no, don' think so. Just that… we've gotta talk, Mick. Like, personally. And like bloody now!"  
Mick nodded. "I know. I'm just leaving my team. I think this whole case is bigger than what they wanna see in it. Or smaller, turn it the way you want. "  
"I'd like to turn it off. Who's been killed till now?"

Mick bit his lips. "Dunno. Couldn't bring myself to check the names."  
Leah laughed softly. "Of course. Why have it easy if things are so much funnier complicated?"  
"You say it, Lee." As he quietly left the bureau, Mick smiled. It felt good talking to her, now that they were both equally focused. Once she came to a problem, Leah was just like Gina: She didn't talk about it too long, she just dug her way into it and worked quietly – and she never gave up, no matter what it cost her. Brave girls, both of them.

"So… Starbucks, corner Second Street and Boylston Avenue, half an hour?"  
"Starbucks? You know I gotta kill you anyway for treason now!" Leah closed her eyes at her own words. She should never have had taken this job. At least she should never have agreed to kill Mick. Truth was her feelings had not changed an inch, and she would always rather kill herself than him.  
"Okay. I'll be there."  
"Good." Mick hung up and switched his cell off. No need to make it easier for his colleagues to find him. He knew they would help him, but he couldn't bring them into danger again. Really not again.  
And Elise getting killed after one night meant the danger was too close. If he died, so be it, but he wouldn't have his team getting killed like Elise.

He would make it easier to be found by his stalker, and then it would be man against man again. He'd either avenge his brothers or die just like them.  
He tried not to think about the dangers that would await him – and Leah. She was not half as proud as she was stubborn, and this killer was threatening her just as well as him. He had to protect her, and if it was the last he'd do. Whatever happened, he would not leave her alone again.

"Mick, you're ready to go? Mick? Come on! Idiot!" Prophet stormed back into the bureau again, his usual coolness forgotten. "He's gone!"

"What?" Gina jumped up. "How do you mean, gone?"  
Cooper stared at his colleague. He hadn't seen it coming. He should have seen it, but he hadn't. Beth looked at her boss. She knew now how Gina had felt before – how it hurt to see someone you love suffering, and not being able to help him.  
"He'll come back, Sam" she tried to soothe, but he only shook his head. "Mick's been thinking he's a danger for us for a long time. He doesn't want to lose us."  
"He can't do this on his own!" Gina cried. "Coop, he's dead tomorrow!"  
"He can take care of himself" Cooper murmured, "he's been living on his own for long enough."  
"But that was before he met you" Beth said gently, "and since then you've taken care of him."  
"And vice versa. No, he's gonna be fine. Till he sees his stalker again." Coop sighed. "Alright. I'm gonna call Hotch, we need to separate the cases again. This can't be official." He stopped. "Maybe this will cause problems with the director. Big enough problems that he might hinder you on going further once you decide to leave us." He didn't look at Gina, but they all knew the comment was mainly for her. For Prophet and Beth, this was the highest on the career ladder they could climb. Gina could soar to the top.

"I'm in, Cooper. Stop treating me like a child."  
Coop smiled while Beth rolled her eyes. Gina would have been able to soar higher if not for the thirty-year-old baby she was in love with.  
"I'll stay" Prophet said.  
"I won't go anywhere" Beth quickly followed, "I thought that was clear."  
"Good. Then keep on collecting data, and Prophet, you'll help him. Given Mick was right about Elise Brooks and she was only at the wrong place in the wrong time. I need you to find one special person."  
Prophet nodded, having found his calmness once again since the team had made their decision. "Whom?"  
"She was one of his colleagues in the academy, and he called her three times in the last… seven hours. Her first name's Leah. I think if we find her, we'll find Mick."

_Past the point of no return -  
no backward glances:  
our games of make believe  
are at an end…  
past all thought of "if" or "when" –  
no use resisting:  
abandon thought  
_Point of no return; The Phantom of the Opera


	9. Revelation One

_Thank you so much for your reviews, especially Narwhayley – should've thanked you long ago, sorry it took me so long. It's so good to see you guys like my story… really. Thank you all!_

_Fallen brother, he's a fallen husband, he's  
about to be woken in his hospital bed.  
He doesn't want to rest, just wants to run, and he's  
tired of being told that he's the lucky one.  
_ War at home, Josh Groban

Gina's hands shivered as she shoved away the next files. They landed violently on the wobbly pile, causing it to collapse. Pictures and data copies sailed through the air and then landed on the floor. Beth was clever enough not to say a word as her younger colleague bowed down with a sigh and started rearranging the papers, muttering curses under her breath.  
They were looking through the dead snpiers' lives for hours now, and so far they had found no more connections than the obvious ones. Military academy, war places, therapy centers. Cemetery. The oldest victim, James Donnaghue, had started his training in 1973. He had fought in Afghanistan, Iraq, and somewhere else – but that part of the curriculum vitae had been blackened. But whatever it had been, it had cost him a leg, and since 1998 he had been a trainer for the SAS.  
The same year Mick had joined the academy, but that didn't mean anything. There were hundreds of candidates every year, most of them men from the 21st and 23rd Regiment. Mick, as it seemed, had come directly from his duty with the British forces – three years, that was the necessary time to be allowed to get to the SAS. Mick was born in 1977, which meant her had joined the forces at the age of sixteen. Three years there, then four years in Hereford. His first mission had been during his training time, that seemed to be the reason why he had needed one and a half year more than the average soldier. Northern Ireland, Iceland, Iraq, Kuwait – who knew where Mick and Cooper had "bumped into each other". Anyways it hadn't been a happy place.

"Gina? You're okay?" Beth knelt down beside the young woman, wondering what she would do if Gina decided to cry. She looked as if she would, sooner or later, and though Beth was terrified of the prospect of comforting her – hell, how do you console a girl who fears for the life of a man who's a living target and couldn't care less for it? Generally, how do you console people? – she understood it. They were used to file through the lives of psychopaths, and of victims – families, students… civilians. It was an entirely different thing to go through the life of a soldier.  
"I'm just wondering" Gina whispered, her eyes dry, "with all those people have lived through, with all they… did… how comes they die so easily?"  
"What do you mean, easily?" Beth frowned. "They were shot by a sniper, what do you want to do against that? Come on, you've ever seen Mick shooting at something with that rifle? You can't fight against it, it's just a bang and…" She stopped herself, but it was too late.  
Lips pressed together tightly, Gina turned away and kept collecting the files.

Beth shook her head. Why on earth had she just said that?  
"Gina, I'm sorry, it's just…"  
"It's just I wonder if they really got over their paranoia, Beth. It's like you said" she stood up, her eyes burning now, "we know Mick. He is paranoid, he sees enemies and threats everywhere. You can't switch that off once you've retired, it's in you! And I really doubt that so many SAS experts, whatever they might be trained at, can start to trust people again. They always will build a wall between them and the world, because they're afraid they might get hurt." Her voice was bitter now, and Beth needn't have to be a profiler to know whom her friend was just talking about.

"I wonder if… for some of them…" Gina closed her eyes "maybe it was a relief."  
"You think they knew they were followed and just let it happen?"  
"I've heard about it from my father's old friends. Sometimes when they would have a veteran's meeting in our house. They stayed till the morning, drinking, laughing, talking… being so loud I couldn't sleep. So I started to sit on the stairs and listen to their stories. I learned to recognize the voices… they got less and less every year. Cancer, car accident. Hunting accident. They all were loudly lamented, and my dad toasted them. Till it came to Sergeant Robert Smith." Gina's voice got slower as she continued her journey back, and Beth moved closer to understand her words.  
"One of the men asked what had happened to him and… he got no answer. They fell silent, for longer than they ever had been. I almost went to bed, happy they would let me sleep for once, but then my father spoke. He said Robert had… chosen to leave them. Them, his family, and the world he had promised to make better. And one of his closest friends, Tom, he said… he said maybe that was the best way to make it better: shoving himself off the earth so he wouldn't stand in the way of loyal and brave people like them." She swallowed. "I had known Tom since I was born, I loved him. But after that it was never the same. I couldn't look into his eyes anymore, I couldn't be in one room alone with him. Sometimes I think that's one of the reason dad loves Danielle more than me. She never had a problem with Tom.  
Well" she cleared her throat and looked up, her eyes widening at Beth's sudden closeness.

Beth quickly backed away. "I see" she said, not sure what to say. Maybe Gina hadn't fallen for Mick because she wanted to save him but because she was just as broken and traumatized as he was.  
"So…"  
"So maybe" Gina declared fiercely, "these people saw it coming and didn't stop it. Maybe it was a way to be rid of their life without losing their honor through suicide."  
"Losing their… oh come on, Gina, you can't care for honor if you're dead!"  
"But the shame echoes down on their families."  
"Who of them had family?" Beth asked desperately. She knew where this was going to. If the victims had wanted to die, maybe Mick would want to die, too. That was the thing Gina dreaded more than anything, and if she hang on to it, it would very soon drive her crazy. Crazy enough maybe to follow Mick's example and run away.

"Sorry to interrupt" Prophet entered the room, even paler than usual, another bunch of files in his hand. Beth had never been as happy to see her colleague. She wasn't a good babysitter.  
"What do you got?"  
"Well… I wouldn't say they had no families." He made his way through the half-cleared mess and put the files onto the table, looking at nobody. Beth's relief mingled with worry again as she saw her stoic colleague's hands shake slightly.

"I checked up Elise Brooks, but… I quickly ended up with nothing. The police has her file now, they will talk to her parents, she's not related to this except for the bullet."  
Beth chuckled. "Alright."  
"But" Prophet pointed out, "I have checked up on Ava McLeary, too. She had a family, back at Wales and here in Texas. She was married to a Max Walters, a farmer, but they got divorced two years ago. Their two sons stayed with her, but fortunately they were with Walters at the time she got killed."  
"Chance or calculation?" Gina murmured, and Prophet shrugged.  
"Whatever it was… the interesting part comes now: the elder son was adopted. "  
Beth grinned. "Yeah. What a bad and cruel and British thing to do, simply adopting a child."

As usually, her irony dripped off. Whatever was bugging Prophet, he wasn't yet ready to let it out. For a brief moment Beth wondered if maybe Prophet was the best in keeping a protective wall between himself and the world. Hell, and she couldn't blame him.  
Who'd ever thought she'd be the most normal one in a team? Gotta love those guys.

"Only by the father. Ava was his biological mother. She gave birth to him in Texas in 2003,where she moved to after her fiancé Matt Austen was killed in Fallujah. Matt Austen was in Mick's troop."

Beth nodded slowly. "So there could be a connection…"  
"There is" Gina interrupted her, "Matt's fiancée got killed, maybe his son is the next. We need to warn Max Walter!"  
"Because the man his ex-wife was engaged to maybe was a friend of an FBI-agent? Do you realize how that sounds?"  
"Alright, but there's got to be something to it" Gina cried.  
Beth frowned. "Talking 'bout paranoia."

Prophet shrugged. "Anyway, Ava had more relations to Mick. She also was his colonel's goddaughter, but the really interesting part comes now…"  
"Again?" Beth couldn't help to throw in, and much to her relief she saw Gina smile.

Prophet shook his head. "It's serious now. I found out things about Mick I'm not even sure Cooper knows." He could no longer retain his mask of calmness, and the women both straightened up and moved to business mode. The only person knowing more about Mick than Cooper was his sister Jenna – Mick himself didn't know himself as well as Cooper did.  
But Prophet wasn't one to boast, and the bad conscience was written on his forehead. He hated invading other's private life, as, actually, they all did.

Gina swallowed, her eagerness to run after the killer suddenly gone. "Do we really need to know all this?"  
Before she could think about it Beth put her arm around Gina's shoulder. If they found out more than Mick wanted them to know, dramatically more, he would never forgive them. It would end their friendship, their working together, it would probably even end Mick's being in the US. Hell, he still had no American passport.  
"It's about this Leah, isn't it?" Now her voice was even more hurt, and again, Beth knew why.

Prophet didn't answer, his expression hardened again. He looked a bit crazy… crazy and dark enough that even Gina seemed to forget about her problem. Whatever was happening here was much bigger than they had thought, and if it had carried away Prophet… none of them would get out safe.

Sam entered the room. "What's the matter, Prophet?" He was very serious.  
Prophet nodded slowly. "I found out something about… Leah Owen. I thought if one of us knew, we all should."  
Cooper frowned. "What is it?"

It was half past two pm. Leah was eighteen minutes late.  
Mick leant in the shadows of dustbins in a driveway next to the coffee shop. Something had happened. His heartbeat was slow and controlled, as was his breathing rhythm, but his thoughts were running wildly in circles.  
Something had happened. He had been so fixated on the thought of him being the next victim that he had managed not to think about the alternatives. It could be anyone.  
It could be Leah.

Twenty to three. Mick pushed off the wall and made a step towards the coffee shop. Maybe everything was okay. Maybe Leah was just as paranoid as he was, and was waiting somewhere else for him. It was too positive a thought for him, but he knew he stood no chance in finding this guy alone. No matter what he had told Coop. The stalker was as good as him, if not better. On his own he would never catch him.

Five to three. He was losing time, time he had not to waste – it wouldn't take long till the team found out he was missing, and he wasn't sure how long he could hide from them. Four days, one week. He could not avoid every camera on his way.  
Somewhere behind him, it clicked. Just a moment, and so low that normally Mick wouldn't be sure if it was just an imagination.  
Now, he sighed in relief. "You're getting old, Lee" he called over his shoulder.

"Funny" she replied, much closer than he had expected. "I was about to tell you the same. You still got a keen tongue, Rawson."  
Mick laughed as he finally turned around to face her. She still was beautiful. Small, slim, long brunette hair. Deep blue eyes, staring him down challengingly. That had changed. The last time Mick had seen her, her eyes had been almost broken, flat and hopeless. He hated that sight, so much that he had turned around and fled. Well, it hadn't been the only reason.  
It was good to see her eyes alive again, they seemed far more familiar now.

Leah smiled, looking him up and down as he did. "You look good" she said casually.  
It didn't happen very often that Mick Rawson was speechless, but he was now. How do you greet someone you went through heaven and hell with? And then left.  
Finally, he smiled back. "You too."

Leah bit back the tears that started in her throat, but she was sure Mick saw them anyway. Maybe she should kill him now – alone to keep her dignity intact.

After three minutes of embarrassed smiling at each other, Mick turned back again and looked at the coffee shop. "Still in for some caffeine?"  
Leah stepped next to him, her shoulder casually touching his. "You've never been in a Starbucks before."  
"Given. What betrayed me?"  
"That you really think you will get some caffeine there." Smirking, Leah passed her former colleague and stepped out into the sun.  
Mick hesitated only for a second – to check if everything was clear around - before he followed her. It was disappointing how stupid they still were, like the teenagers they never had been.  
They stopped in front of the café. Inside were about sixty people, trying to find place in the room built for about forty.  
Leah bit her lips not to smirk again. She knew that if she would mock him too much, Mick would see through it and find the fear and sadness inside her. Or maybe he had seen it already but shied away of really finding out the reasons.

Mick nodded. "Anywhere else?"  
"Anywhere. How much time do we have?"  
He sighed, and again checked the surroundings. Their being together meant doubling the danger.  
"Not much."  
"Tell me something I don't know!" She couldn't help it. Mick Rawson was easily the most annoying person she had ever met. And he knew her too well.

Mick looked at her, very serious now. "What's wrong, Leah?" His voice was as gentle as normally only Jenna got to hear.  
Leah shook her head. "Let's get the hell away from here, I'm burning."

Nobody stopped Gina as she stormed out of the room, crying.  
Prophet had done what he had to, and now he was standing there just like a statue, waiting for instructions.

It took Beth only one quick look to see Cooper was devastated. Not because Mick hadn't trust him on this one, Beth knew him well enough for that. Sam Cooper wasn't like that. He trusted Mick with everything but had accepted that this trust wasn't paid back in the same way. He had offered him a friendship without knowing how much it would mean for both of them. Ever since then in Fallujah, they had been friends, and Mick had saved his life just as often as Cooper had saved his. They had talked for days, drunk for nights. They were brothers for a lifetime.

Cooper wasn't at the edge of crying because Mick hadn't confided in him. He was at the edge of crying because his heart was too big and the story too sad, and even though they all had seen things so much more cruel – this was happening to one of them. To his best friend, and he could do nothing.

"I'm sorry" Prophet murmured eventually, "I'm so sorry."  
"You don't have to" Beth shot back automatically, "how could you know?"  
"Well" the agent's voice was bitter, "I guess I should've realized it. I'm old enough for seeing such things." The bitterness in his voice was topped only by the self-contempt that was running through his body, causing his hands to go in fists. "I led her straight to him."

Beth bit her lips. She wanted to help Prophet, but from all she knew about herself, words weren't her thing. Maybe she should try the arm-thing again.  
Slowly she moved over to the man and sat down next to him, not quite daring to actually touch him. It must be hard on him, he had seemed so happy this morning.  
Beth chuckled drily. Had it really been only five hours ago? Once they got Mick back she would kick his British ass till he cried, and then kick him harder.

Once they got him back. If they got him back.

"Alright, let's think this through." Cooper had regained control over himself. For him, it was clear, there was no "if". They would get Mick back.

"Beth…"  
"Anything!" she blurted out without thinking, causing Prophet to smile sadly.  
But it was true. Right now, she would do anything to help Sam… or to get away from his deep, beautiful, sad eyes.

Sam smiled, too. "Please get Gina. I know this is hard for all of us but we need to think about what's happening next." And I need some minutes alone with Prophet.  
He didn't say it but Beth understood. Quickly she left for the women's restrooms, praying that Gina hadn't chosen to leave the team as well and try to beat the hell out of Leah Kate Owen on her own.

_More lies about a world that  
never was and never will be  
have you no shame? Don't you see me?  
You know you've got everybody fooled_  
Everybody's fool, Evanescence


End file.
